


Marionette

by lesmisloony



Category: Mozart l'Opéra Rock - Mozart/Baguian & Guirao
Genre: Childhood, Siblings, Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-04 18:18:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14025921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesmisloony/pseuds/lesmisloony
Summary: When Aloysia is too sick to perform one day, Constance insists on keeping her company.  For the #aprilfilles prompt "siblings".





	Marionette

“I swear, the world is against me!”

“Poor dear,” Mama clucked, tucking a blanket around Aloysia’s shoulders and pressing the back of her hand against her forehead.  “You just rest, then.  Rest that voice!  Ring the bell if you need anything, don’t shout.  We’ll have you back on your feet in no time.”  She collected the empty soup bowl from the bedside table and turned to the door, pausing for a moment to squint suspiciously at Constance.  “You!  What are you doing in here?”

“I- I just wanted to see if Aloysia needed anything.”

“Hm,” Mama said, her expression unchanged.  “She’ll ring if she does.  Why don’t you go play with your sisters?”

“Yes, Mama,” said Constance.  But she remained where she was while her mother swept out of the room and down the stairs, creaking floorboards announcing her progress as she made her way to the kitchen and out of earshot.

Constance turned back to the bed.  Her big sister was lying on her back, swaddled so completely in blankets that only her peaky little face was showing, propped up on a pair of pillows.  On the nightstand were a glass of water, a candle, and the bell Mama had brought up the moment Aloysia told her that her throat felt strange.  The only other furniture in the room were the wardrobe, the basin, and a trunk.  Constance folded her arms and huffed.  Her bed used to stand in the corner where the overdress Aloysia had worn yesterday was now lying in a heap.  Then Mama had decided that Aloysia needed more space to rest and to practice her singing, and had moved Constance across the hall with Josepha and Sophie.  They might as well have been boarding in a convent for all the privacy that gave them.

“What do you want, Stanzi?” Aloysia croaked.  Constance realized that she was peering at her through her lashes.

“I don’t know.”

“If you’re going to tease me about having to cancel the recital, I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not going to tease you,” Constance said.

“Then go play with Sophie.  You might fall ill if you stay in here.”

“Are you really ill?” asked Constance, creeping closer.

Aloysia scowled.  “That’s a stupid question.”

“Well, you weren’t ill at dinner last night,” Constance said, “and you weren’t ill this morning.  I heard you singing while we were folding clothes in our room.”

“So?” Aloysia asked sharply.  “I’m ill now!  Sometimes you just fall ill.”

“I guess the world really is against you, then,” Constance shrugged.  But Aloysia’s tone didn’t match the look in her eyes.  There was something else.  Constance clambered up onto the bed, ignoring her sister’s protests as she settled into a spot at her side and crossed her legs.

“What are you doing, you little idiot?”

Constance dropped her head into hands and grinned innocently.  “We can be ill together.  I’ll keep you company.”

“I’m going to ring for Mama,” Aloysia warned, reaching for the bell.

Constance just shrugged and continued to grin.

Aloysia dropped her arm.  “What do you want?” she asked again, swatting one of her arms out from under her chin.  “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I won’t tell, you know,” said Constance.

“Tell what?  I’m the one who’s going to tell!”

“That you aren’t really ill.”

“Go away, Stanzi!”

She shrugged again and climbed off the bed.  “Alright, so you want to be alone.  Bye.”

“Stanzi!” Aloysia huffed.  She snatched one of the pillows out from under her head and clenched it over her face, muffling a dramatic groan.

Constance turned back to the bed and waited.  She had shared a room with Aloysia her whole life.  She knew her better than anyone.  The last time Aloysia had gotten a cold, she had insisted that she was sneezing because she was allergic to Mama’s perfume and had attempted to carry on with her lessons as though nothing was wrong, infecting Papa and all of her tutors in the process.  Her sister was not the sort of person who canceled a recital over a sore throat.

And after a few more moments of silence, without uncovering her face Aloysia finally huffed and said, “Alright!  Fine!  I was afraid, is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No,” replied Constance.  She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and pulled the pillow away from Aloysia’s face.  “Why were you afraid?”

Her sister snatched the pillow back and held it over her face again.  “It’s stupid,” she said.  

“I won’t laugh.”

“It’s just…” Aloysia lifted the corner of the pillow and peered up at Constance with one dark eye.  “Sometimes when they make me sing in front of people, I don’t feel real.  I know what to do, but- but I don’t know why.  Like… like a marionette… but I don’t even know if Mama is the one pulling the strings anymore.”

“Oh.  That is scary,” said Constance. She stretched out next to her on the bed, laying her cheek on her sister’s shoulder and throwing an arm over her.  “It’s alright, though.  You’re real.”

Aloysia smoothed a hand through her golden hair and heaved a sigh.  “Little Stanzi,” she murmured, “you don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“No.”

“Good.  I hope you never do.”  She kissed the top of her head.  “Now get out of here before Mama comes back.  I think I hear her on the stairs, don't you?”

Shooting an anxious glance at the door, Constance scrambled out of her sister’s arms and smoothed her hair back into place.  She tiptoed across the uneven floor, avoiding the boards she knew would creak and straining her ears in case Mama really was on her way.  The only thing she heard was Josepha’s high-pitched laughter outside, where she and Sophie had been playing dolls all afternoon.  Constance paused at the door and looked over her shoulder.  “Does a marionette ever hold its own strings?” she asked.  “Maybe that’s what you could do.”

“Marionettes can’t do anything by themselves,” Aloysia said.  “They’re dolls.  Don’t be stupid.”

“If I were a marionette, I would do whatever I wanted!”

“If you were marionette, you'd have to do what you wanted because nobody would want to play with you!” Aloysia retorted, tossing her pillow at her.

Constance stuck her tongue out, kicked the pillow back across the floor, and slipped out of the room.  She didn’t want to sit through another of Aloysia’s recitals anyway.


End file.
